A Doll Named Ghost
by loveleighalissa
Summary: They called me Ghost. I was something called a doll. I was one because I did something wrong, what I don't remember. I guess I'm still one, the original me hasn't come home yet. I don't think she ever will, but I'd welcome her home if she does.
1. Part One of Two

**A Doll Named Ghost**

**/-+-+-/IMPORTANT\+-+-+\**

**\Disclaimer:** I **Do NOT Own** anything from _**Hunger Games **_or _**Dollhouse**_**/**

**/OC Centric**, not going to deny it, my OC is pretty important**\**

**\-+-+-\The Summery in 255 Character Or Less/+-+-+/**

They called me Ghost. I was something called a doll. I was one because I did something wrong, what I don't remember. I guess I'm still one, the original me hasn't come home yet. I don't think she ever will, but I'd welcome her home if she does.

**/-+-+-/Part One Of Two\+-+-+\**

I like my treatments. They never seem to last long though, but I like them. When I'm not getting a treatment I like to swim or paint.

Sometimes I hear the people in suits talk about how we've been punished worse than the Avox. What are those and why are they punished? Why am I being punished? I tried to ask once, but they asked if I wanted a treatment. I really do like my treatments.

I wake up from a treatment and am sent to the doctor. She checks me, and gives me candy. It tastes like strawberry. I like strawberries, they taste sweet. I hope I can get some with dinner tonight.

I really like to swim. The water feels nice and swimming relaxes me. I'll keep doing the laps until I'm too tired to keep doing them. I feel my head hit something as I finish another lap. It hurts, and I start to black out.

I wake up with the doctor, she really is nice. She asks me how I feel. I tell her that my head hurts a little, but I'm fine. She smiles, and starts to look at my head. She puts me back to sleep and the next time I wake up she tells me it's time for a treatment. I really like treatments.

I'm painting a man. He's tall and a handsome I guess. I don't know why I'm painting him, I just am. An attendant looks surprised when I show her. She takes my painting and I go sit with September and Country. They're my friends.

I dream about that man. I'm not me though, I'm someone else. She's fun and keeps talking with the man. I think she loves him, but he doesn't love her. I wake up when he starts kissing her and pulling her into a room. I'm asked if I'm ready for a treatment before lunch. I like my treatments.

When my treatment is done, I don't think it really is. I don't feel better like normal, I feel worse. I tell the doctor and she tells me not to tell anyone else, and just go paint. I can't swim anymore, so I only paint now.

This time I paint a little girl. She looks like me a little, but not really. Her eyes are gold, mine are sliver. Our hair is the same though. We both have dark brown, almost black, hair. When I'm done, I know she was my friend. I just don't remember when, but I don't think she knows me. She knows someone else who looks like me.

I'm remembering things more and more. I think it's bad. I told the doctor and she told me not to ever tell anyone. When they tell me it's time for a treatment I pretend to be happy. I really don't like my treatments.

I know what's happening now. They put a different person in me during the treatments. The one I remember the best is the girl with that man. I've been with him since what might not be the first time, and I know the girl he orders loves him very much. He's not very nice to her, though.

The more I remember the more I look for an escape, but it would be too hard I think. They put a tracker in me, I don't know where though. I've been trying to figure it out for a while, but I'm afraid it's in my brain. I can't remove if it's there.

It's in my left arm. I'll have to wait to escape when I can, and cut the tracker out as soon as I can. It won't be easy, but I hate it here. I don't know why I'm being punished still, but I know what Avox are. They're people who cannot speak; they lost the right by angering the capital. I don't know how the capital took they're speech away, but I need to know.

I find the chance to run when I'm with a chubby man one day. He wanted a beautiful woman to love him. I tell him I'm only getting us some champagne, but I head into the kitchen of the hotel we're at. I pick up the knife and walk into a bathroom. I cut the tracker out, and run.

I'm so scared that even my clothes have trackers that I walk into a clothing store and steal the first dress I can. I leave all my old clothes, underwear and shoes too, on the floor and run out of the store before anyone thinks something is up. I go to other stores and steal shoes and underwear. I wonder if I blend in.

The capital is so bright and loud that I'm not sure what to do. I know I cannot keep running forever, and I hear talks about districts. Maybe I can find a way to a district; someone might know who I am or I can find the girl from one of my painting.

I'm able to get on a train. I don't know where I'm going just that I am. I wonder if they're looked for me, or do they not care. The train reminds me of the dollhouse a bit, lavish and over accommodating. I don't sleep much, too scared that they might come for me. I've been learning things though. I wonder if I'm like my original.

They called me Ghost and I was something called a doll. I was one because I did something wrong, what I don't remember. I guess I'm still one, the original me hasn't come home yet. I don't think she ever will, but I'd welcome her home if she does.

**\+-|-+/**** Author Note \+-|-+/**

I have no idea where this came from. I just started to write and this is what happened. I hope you enjoyed. I'd **love** to hear **feedback positive or negative**, but **if you're going to be pissed at me for having an OC then why did you even bother reading in the 1st place**, but please, for the love of whatever you find holy, **REVIEW**! I do believe that most stories are victims of **bystander syndrome**. You assume that someone else will, never thinking that maybe no one will. So always **REVIEW** and **I'll love you unconditionally** if you do so!


	2. Part Two of Two

**A Doll Name Ghost**

**/-+-+-/IMPORTANT\+-+-+\**

**Disclaimer:** I **Do NOT own** anything from _**Hunger Games **_or _**Dollhouse**_

**\+-+-+\Part Two of Two/-+-+-/**

I feel the train stop and wonder how far away I am. Am I safe from the treatments and the people? I look out the window and nothing pulls my original to me. I'm still a doll and I'm still Ghost, just with extra minds. My brain has taken each character and mashed them into one. I can pull specific people out, but I like them mashed better.

There was a war and I'm in district 12. I only see destruction when I get off the train. Ruins are everywhere. I wonder around for a long while, unsure of where to go. I'm not sure if I know this place or not. The more I travel the more sorrow I feel in my chest. This place is different from the capital, and the dollhouse.

I wonder into an area that has quite a few homes, not in ruins. I find it odd. Why was this area so…intact? I see a man, and walk over to ask him. He gives me a smile when I approach, but it fades when I ask him. He gives me a sad look and I see tears stroll down his face. I apologize; afraid he'd be able to call a man to take me for a treatment. He doesn't though, just tells me his name is Peeta.

Peeta finds me funny; I don't understand things and I get lost very easily. He introduces me to Haymitch and Katniss. Haymitch calls me a stray and smells funny. Katniss is pretty and, once she realizes that I truly don't understand things, is very sweet to me. Haymitch makes lots of jokes I don't understand.

I learned what happens to Avoxs from stories they tell. They cut their tongues out. I'm not sure if it's really better to lose your tongue verse your memories. Dolls and Avoxs aren't that different; we're both slaves that the capital uses. Avoxs lose their tongues and will be tortured if they disobey. Dolls are hollowed out and erased when they disobey. I'm not sure which is worse.

I paint the girl again, but I show it to Katniss right away. She's been letting me stay with her, since I have place else to go. Katniss stares at the painting, and asks who it is. I tell her that I don't know, but I want to. Katniss give me an odd look. I haven't told anyone about my being a doll, still wondering if someone will show up and take me for a treatment.

I learn about my original's mother from Haymitch. He's really drunk one night, and tells me I look like his lost love. He lost her to another man and had one daughter. Then he showed me a picture. His lost love looks like the girl in my paintings, and I look like her. I have her face, but his eyes. I am from district 12. Haymitch passes out before I can ask more questions.

Haymitch ignores me when I try to ask more questions, he doesn't understand my curiosity. That's when I decide to tell them about me being a doll, but I find no chance. I won't be willing to tell them each individually so I have to do it all at once. I keep trying and trying, but neither Katniss and Peeta are fighting or Haymitch is too drunk to attend.

I find a chance on night; Katniss and Peeta aren't fighting because they teamed up to drain Haymitch's liquor. Haymitch is yelling at them when I interrupt, saying I want Haymitch to tell me about his lost love. Before he can ignore me I tell him that I've been hollowed out. They all look at me funny, so I tell them.

I tell them everything. I tell them about sitting in a chair and leaning back and the shot of pain as you're filled with another person, the treatment. I tell them all about what was my life in the dollhouse. Peeta tells me to stop and that if I was joking that it wasn't funny. I'm unsure what to say to that, I'm not lying nor am I joking.

After Peeta tells me to stop lying and joking, I leave. I feel like an idiot. I've known those people for only a month, they couldn't have understood how it felt to have your mind taken away and replaced with another's. I unsure of where I am after an hour of walking; I'm standing in a home.

I wonder around the home, it feels familiar and mostly intact. It's off the beaten path, as close to the woods as it could get. I find some picture of Haymitch's lost love. This was her home, but was it mine too?

My original's name is Echo, my grandmother's name. I know this because I'm starting to remember her. Echo was a tribute; she tried to commit suicide instead of dying at someone else's hands. She jumped of a cliff she found in the arena, she didn't' die but the cannon fired. The dollhouse was her punishment.

Haymitch minds me a few days later. I'm reading my original's mother's journal and have child hood photos everywhere. He wasn't really looking for me; I think he was going to leave flowers at the house to honor my original's mother. She died of a broken heart from losing Echo. I ask him if he has any tapes of the 72nd Hunger Games, because I was a tribute.

I know he doesn't believe me, but he lets me watch the tape. I fast forward to 12's reapings, and pause when they show Echo. I look at Haymitch, and he's shocked. He asks me how it's even possible, and I respond with the dollhouse.

Haymitch explains why Peeta didn't like what I told him, about what happened to him during the war. Next time I see Peeta, I ask if I can ask him about it. He says yes, so I do. I ask about how they did it. After he tells me, I know Peeta went through a more violent treatment. Hey didn't hollow him out first when they replaced the memories, they just ripped his old ones away, tore them up, and shoved them back in. I give Peeta a hug, and tell him I am sorry that I brought the painful memory back to him.

I understand why I can remember now. Echo was a strong willed girl; she only wanted to take over her father's dress shop and marry a boy named Gale. I don't know who Gale is; just that she had a crush on him from afar.

I find fabric and thread in the house one day. My hands move on their own and I spend all day making a dress. It's a white dress and makes me think of my wedding. It wasn't really my wedding, just a girl they made for a man to marry once in his life, because the real girl died. I try it on; it's a little tight. I think about Katniss, and wonder if she'd like it.

She's surprised but thanks me. I ask her if she'll wear it when she marries Peeta. She cokes on air and want to know where I got that idea. I tell her that Peeta truly loves her and don't people in love get married. She tells me that I'm like a child.

It's over a month later that I see her wearing the dress. Her hair is down and she looks nervous. I walk to up her and tell her it's normal. She looks confused, and I tell her all brides get a little nervous on their wedding day. She scolds me and says that she isn't going to get married. I'm at her and Peeta's toasting ceremony less than a year later.

I don't meet Echo's Gale and I'm okay with that because I make dress; I'm very good at it. I make clothing for everyone, and trade them for food. Sometimes people give me the materials and that is their payment for the clothes. I like drawing new designs and making the dresses. It's calming and I love doing it.

I'm having dinner with Peeta, Katniss, and Haymitch when the TV turns on. It's a news report, about the dollhouse. I sit and watch my eyes unmoving. I see County and September they've been freed. All the dolls are now themselves and can't wait to come home. I feel happier for them, but I begin to cry. My friends are all gone. Ghost's friends were once dolls, but now they don't know her. Echo's friends all died in the bombing of district 12. I still have Peeta, Katniss, and Haymitch though. So I'm not alone.

It's a long road home for Echo. I think I was eighteen when I wondered into 12, and I don't know how old I was when I hit my head in the pool. I'm Echo but I'm still Ghost too. Her brain mind had melted into mine. I understand things the more I remember them, I even understand the jokes Haymitch makes. I'm happy, it feels nice.

**\+-|-+/**** Author Note \+-|-+/**

I felt the need to add more, and this takes place after the books, mostly because I think Ghost wouldn't survive the war. I'd **love** to hear **feedback positive or negative**, but **if you're going to be pissed at me for having an OC then why did you even bother reading in the 1st place**, but please, for the love of whatever you find holy, **REVIEW**! I do believe that most stories are victims of **bystander syndrome**. You assume that someone else will, never thinking that maybe no one will. So always **REVIEW** and **I'll love you unconditionally** if you do so!


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